May 26, 2017, 11:23 p.m.
This past Tuesday, Aila enjoyed her second chemo infusion since her sister was born on April 14th. When Aoife was 11 days old, she accompanied her parents and her sister to UCSF for a round of vincristine and an appointment with Dr. Steiglitz. This week, Zander really wanted to come with us. So we left Declan and Aoife with Priscilla while Brian and I took both Zander and Aila to the infusion clinic. Early in her treatment, I remember someone--a nurse maybe--saying that there would come a time where Aila would be excited about going to the clinic. At the time, I remember thinking how crazy that sounded, since Aila wept and yelled so hysterically during infusions. But indeed, Aila is now always excited for upcoming "port doctor" appointments. It's a treat, after all, to spend the day with Mom and Dad, with nurses and doctors and child life specialists and prize boxes all for her. We rarely bring Zander with us, since for us the experience is quite taxing and bleak with only Aila in tow let alone Zander, and we have very little attention to spare. However, when Aila returns to the house after a day of chemo, Zander often has a huge emotional meltdown. We get it, we really do. It's been all about Aila, all the time. And now, with a new baby in the house...well, he's at least third in line where getting attention is concerned.
Pediatric cancer has transformed Brian and me into very self-absorbed and self-focused (family-absorbed? family-focused?) humans. I've spent most of the day, every day, since August 8, 2015, thinking about Aila and leukemia and its impact on our family. When I meet new people, it's the very first thing that I want them to know. When I talk to old friends, I desperately want them to understand her latest treatment or the agony of a recent hospitalization. Early on, I remember feeling a strange gratitude for the simple clarity that this single focus afforded. It was so clear what was important--holding Aila's hand, singing her sweet songs during day after day of illness and misery, helping Zander to process the chaos around him. Loving each other. And it was undeniable the things that mattered very little--all related to status and image and ego. Whether Zander knew how to count as high as other kids in his class. Whether the kids went to the park in their pajamas. How tired I looked. How grey my hair had gotten. How many papers I had published at work.
Aoife was conceived during a clear moment, when Brian and I thought about how important it was to show our children that life continues and that love matters. That cancer and sickness and grief cannot and do not stop either. Not now, not ever. And Aoife's birth is the very first thing that has changed what is on the tip of my tongue when I talk to friends, new and old. We had a baby! Joy. Life and love.
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